I am sitting in what has to be the most boring meeting ever conceived by man.
Born of the devil, bred to destroy, this meeting has set upon me like a deadly tsunami, enveloping me in the most horrid embodiment of ennui I’ve encountered in a long, long time.
Supposedly this is a planning meeting that is supposed to get the developers involved in setting up the schedule for the project I’m on. The idea is that if the developers are involved in the planning, they may be more likely to meet they dates they commit to.
That’s a lie.
In reality, this is an open forum for discussing anything that even peripherally relates to the project, all simultaneously, none of which impacts my portion of the project. A massive amount of discussion has gone on simply to determine “how do we call something ‘done?’” That was one of the multithreaded conversations flowing about the room, bombarding my senses.
There is no order, only chaos.
And I have to be honest: this thing was meant to engender a sense of ownership and commitment, but I’ve passed the point of caring. My 15 minute meeting attention span was over four hours and 45 minutes ago. There’s no sign of this stopping.
I’ve tried to actually get something done in here, but the ergonomics of working in a bad chair at a conference room table are beyond description. My back is killing me, my nerves are wracked, my concentration is totally shot. I can’t get anything done, but I can’t concentrate on anything going on here.
At this point all I can do is pray for death. If I had a secret agent suicide pill I’d use it. I can’t take this anymore. It’s killing me.